from time to time
by Demonic Angel Clone
Summary: She's on his mind. He's on hers, too. Finn/Santana
1. i'll resist

**_-from time to time-_**

* * *

"_Won't you come on over? Stop makin' a fool out of me…"_

* * *

She's a force of nature up on that stage, belting out the refrain of _Valerie_.

The guys were supposed to just circle around her, but Finn's gaze lingers a little longer than it should've and the grin on his face is a little wider than what it needs to be when he sees the determination in her eyes for a win.

It's familiar because that's the way her eyes look when she crosses him in the hall. He shouldn't even _want_ to look at her. He does it anyways.

And then he turns away to finish the choreography.

* * *

She cares too much about what he thinks. That's why she's such a bitch to Berry. Or, well, _more_ of a bitch to Berry. Anyways…

She's not a saint as her name would suggest, and she doesn't try to pretend to be one –like lil' miss midget diva tries to be, but fails. No, Santana's a straight up _bitch_, but maybe that's why she wants Finn. _Wants_ because she doesn't _need_ anything. She reasons this with herself because even though she cannot _stand_ Rachel Berry, she wouldn't have told her that she and Finn did the dirty in front of Glee if she didn't care.

But the fact of the matter is that she did. And she does. She cares too much about innocent brown eyes and hands that grip her waist _just_ right.

* * *

"…_then maybe I'll tell her. Because then, we'd be free to see each other, right?"_

* * *

And he wasn't expecting to break up with Rachel. Really, when she threw his words back in his face like that, about how he'd never break up with her, anger bubbled in his chest. He didn't _want_ to, but he had to. This wasn't something they could overcome together–at the moment- and frankly, he couldn't look at her without imagining Puck's _hands_ touching her, Puck's _lips_ kissing hers, Puck being the one to realize how truly _fucked_ up the entire situation was and stopping it, _not_ Rachel.

He never thought she'd, out of all the girls he had been with, would be the one to make him feel so _low_, even as his reputation rose from breaking it off with her.

He can't blame himself for breaking up for her –because he'd never cheat on her- but he can't find it in himself to blame Rachel either. She was provoked, and there was only person to blame for that provocation. And that person was walking down the hallway as he shut his locker.

His hand latches onto her arm firmly. Her smirk falls from her face and is replaced by a stint of confusion and then a smug smirk.

"I know you can't keep your hands off of me Finnocence, but really, we're in a hallway."

"Enough Santana," He all but snaps, and her dark eyes narrow. "We need to talk."

"We don't _need_ to do anything," She seethes. "What _you_ need to do is let go of me and-"

She's cut off when he drags her into a nearby classroom that is dark at first, but the lights turn on as the sensors detect their movement.

"What the _fuck_?" The Latina proclaims when he slams the door.

"_You_ broke Rachel and I up!" He accuses, and she cranes her head, giving him that look that says that she pities him more than he can know.

"That's bullshit, and you know it." She glares, even as she tightens his grip and leans in closer. "You broke up with the midget because she's a bitch who cheated on you with the guy who knocked up your ex last year. If anything, I showed you her true colors because if you didn't do anything wrong and she was cruel enough to do that, then imagine what would happen if you did fuck up?"

The silence following her words is palpable and stilled, but-

He lets go of her arm, built up hot air escaping his nostrils, and she smirks, knowing she's won. "Stay away from me, Santana. No more looks down the hallway or touching me whenever you feel like it."

She steps closer, her chest nearly flush against his, "Why don't _you_ stay away from _me_? Stop staring at my ass whenever I walk down the hallway, wondering if you'll tap that again, and touching me somewhere safe when you know that you want to touch me where the sun doesn't shine."

Her head is craned upwards, Finn's is tilted downwards, and their breaths intermingle as his eyes become hooded.

Finally, he takes a step back. "Fine, then," He says. "I won't do any of that anymore."

She turns, looking at him over her shoulder. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Finnocence."

Her hips sway and the pleats of her Cheerios skirt pitter patter against her thighs.

He _tries_ not to notice.

He fails.

* * *

…like, how does he not know how to tie a clip-on?

And then she reprocesses that in her mind, and realizes that you can't tie something that doesn't…tie.

Well.

Anyways, Finn generally fails. The fact that he has no game, the fact that he didn't know that the anatomy of a male and female body fit together like puzzle pieces (like Frankenstein, and thus, Frankenteen was born), or the fact that dating a loser make you a loser by association too.

But the boy has potential. _So_, so much potential. Star quarterback of a now winning team, typical male lead of Glee. Hell, all he needed was her. Her to make him better, be his plus one.

"Listen, I really care about Rachel and I'm fine with waiting for her-" Finn rambles before he's cut off.

"…Aaaaand when was the last time you had any of this, Frankenteen?" To further demonstrate, she takes her manicured index finger and slides it in and out through a loop created by her other pointer finger and thumb.

He goes silent.

"That's what I thought," She retorts with a curl of her lips, and she leans forward as she's balanced on his knee, glossed lips tickling his earlobe. "So when you're ready for someone to make you _feel_ good again," She whispers huskily and her hands trail from his neck, to his chest, and past his waist, he lets out a soft groan. "You know where to find me."

* * *

He finds her on the other side of her door and his hands latch onto her hips before he can even stop himself.

Her eyes darken and glitter, "Took you long enough." She says, like she expected this and wondered why it didn't take place sooner. She wasn't even modest about this, wearing only lacy black boy shorts and a cropped midriff.

He tugs on the soft flesh of her clavicle with his teeth and then smooths over the assault with his tongue. "Shut up, Santana." He hoists her up and her lithe legs wrap around his waist. Her hands grip the back of his hair not too softly and their lips clash against one another's, her tongue massaging his as soon as she gains access. Her back slams into the back of her front door and a moan escapes her throat in protest. His fingers clutch into her soft flesh so hard that they begin to drag her panties down her caramel legs.

His hand begins its ascend from her waist, teetering on the outskirts of her breast. "Upstairs, Finnocence, we have to move this upstairs," She groans out and he huffs, carrying her up the stairs without disconnecting their lips until they blindly find their way into her room, crashing on her bed with a _creak, _and her midriff comes off abruptly, dark curls fanning out below her as she guides his hand up to her breast while his other removes her underwear. Her fingers rip away at his clothing with just as much fervor and she flips their positions, straddling him beneath her. His brow creases.

"You were on top last time."

Her fine eyebrow rises questioningly. "Sooo?"

He leans on his elbows, "I wanna be on top this time. It'd feel good and you promised me that you'd make me feel that way."

Se scoffs, leaning down to capture his lips, but doesn't protest when he rolls them to the other side of the comforter. He dips his head down lower and lower and when she moans out his name this time, she's below him as he approaches her entrance…

* * *

She never thought he'd make her feel this way. Like, how fucking _dare_ he make her feel like she's less than what she is. Make her feel like some type of whore.

She slaps him across his face, nails scratching roughly against his cheek. Hard.

"When I'm serious about someone, I don't go around hooking up with their _best friend_," She sneers viciously. "Q fucks Puck, Rachel makes out with him, but I can't even freaking say a word to him without being freaking condemned?"

"He has a tendency to _steal_ my girlfriends," Finn bites out, pressing his fingers into his red cheek.

"Since when have I been your girlfriend?"

"Since I stopped _screwing_ you," Finn emphasizes, his face softening. "And began making love to you."

"You don't even _know_ what that word _means_," She stresses, on the verge of pulling her own hair out. "And neither do I, so stop throwing it around like that." Santana crosses her arms, guarding herself from his _stupid_ face, his _stupid_ expectations, and his even _stupider_ words. "Just because I haven't sexed up Puck in a hot minute, doesn't mean that can't change."

"I don't want you have sex with him," Finn says steadily, looking into her eyes. "Or anyone else, for that matter."

She opens her mouth quickly to say something, _anything_, that'll piss him off, just because she could. A smartass retort or maybe a statement to take him down a few notches for thinking he could tell _her_ what she should or shouldn't do. She opens her mouth. And then closes it when she sees how damn earnest he looks about the whole thing. How his eyes softened and how his shoulders are now slumped like a kicked puppy's.

She always had a soft spot for dogs. Damn him.

"And what about you? We can't have sex anymore?" She asks just as softly as he looks.

"Maybe I don't want to be _just_ your fun-buddy anymore, San," Finn answers, thumb caressing the length of her neck. "And that includes having less…_fun_."

"But I like having fun," Santana protests quickly. "I like having fun a lot."

Finn smirks at the disappointed look her face has taken. "I like having fun too," He concedes playfully. "In fact, I _love_ having fun with you, but I'd love to get to know you even more. I wanna know why you like having fun so much-"

"Because it's _funnn_," She whines, and he kisses her forehead, resting his chin on her temple and wrapping his arms around her waist.

He chuckles, but continues on, "I want to know your favorite color and what it takes to truly be the boyfriend of Santana Lopez. I wanna know you like I know you physically, and I'm not going to stop until I do, so…"

"And why do we have to stop having sex for you to do that?" Santana all but pouts, furrowed brow and all as she drops the euphemism.

As he guides her down the hallway, hand resting on her lower back, he grins and leans down to her ear.

"Because you're too distracting when we're _doing the dirty_, San." He says all too innocently.

She laughs all the way to class.

* * *

I love Fanta. I love Fanta a lot. And Special Education just set me off and has made me scour FF everyday for new fictions of them.

This is basically a story consisting of moments in time between them–non chronologically. Hope you enjoyed reading, and hopefully you'll provide feedback if you feel like it; thanks for reading!

DAC


	2. but you'll remember me

_**-from time to time-**_

* * *

"_I don't feel anything because it didn't mean anything…"_

* * *

He says this with a furrowed brow, and tightened lips. Because that's how he feels. Felt. But he turns his head, and sees the disappointment in her eyes, the set jaw. Finally, he speaks again, "Do you, um, wanna get out of here? We can go get that burger and I can take you home."

Santana turns to him then, eyes hooded in momentary thought. "You could just leave, you know. Since this was all so _meaningless _to you," She spits out, and Finn feels even lower than he did a few minutes ago.

"Santana, I-" He halts, not knowing what to really say. He's not in love with her, and she's not even really his friend, this was just an exchange so they could both get what they want- or thought they wanted.

She rolls her eyes, smirk blossoming on her face. "Oh, Finnocence," She goads chidingly. "A deal's a deal and we did the deed, let's just leave it at that, 'kay?" She snips sassily, moving the covers and getting up from the bed. Finn looks at her, bewildered by the sudden change. She gathers her clothes and before heading to the bathroom, she says, "But I really _do _want that burger, so-"

"No problem," Finn agrees easily before the bathroom door snaps shut.

* * *

It's been two days since he promised to stay away from her, but everything changes when they're in Glee, performing a number.

During _Dog Days Are Over_, he grips her waist –the way she likes it- spinning her around, and he pawns this off as him having fun and not meaning to touch her for the sake of just touching her.

Whatevs.

And then he sits next to her in Glee in a last, desperate attempt to not be situated next to Rachel the whole time. Santana crosses her legs, looking over at him with a risen eyebrow, and he shrugs half-heartedly, as if to say, _This doesn't count to our agreement because I don't want to sit next to my ex, so please don't mention it._

Even if there were other seats in the choir room that were free and away from Rachel.

So, Santana smirks, and then her pencil falls in the space between his legs

during Mr. Schue's opening Glee monologue. "Oops." And she reaches down for it at the same time he decides to, and their eyes lock as their foreheads are merely centimeters apart.

"Sorry," Finn whispers reflexively when their fingers brush, pencil forgotton.

Santana cocks her head. "Why're you sorry?" She whispers back.

"I just…I mean, we –I'm not supposed to-"

"Don't have a heart attack, Finn," The Latina grins, eye alight. "You barely laid a finger on me."

She reaches down further and picks up her pencil, keeping her eyes on his the entire time as she reached in-between the gap of his legs, her arm brushing past his inner thigh and leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

The male lead's breathing becomes labored and when Santana sends a reassuring wink his way, he nearly misses his cue to begin the song Schue gave him last session.

Ever since then, he tries to put his energy and focus into other things. He adds another five Lbs. to each side of the bar he usually benches in weightlifting –since Santana will sometimes sneak into the locker room, but never the weight-lifting room because of the stench. He stays behind an extra few minutes to perfect his notes in Glee with Mr. Schue –and to prevent bumping into Santana on the way out. He figures that if temptation isn't placed in front of him, he won't do anything he promised he won't do, like touch her, or look at her a little harder than he should, or anything.

Yeah, it should, and will, work.

Except, it doesn't.

The more he tries to avoid her, the more she seems to just appear. In the hallway on his way to class, on the field before football practice.

On his mind when he's in the shower, hand clutching his half stiffened member.

He turns the knob to stop the warm blast of water hitting him in the locker room, and wraps his towel tight around his waist as he steps out.

Santana's lazily filing her nails against the row of lockers, and Finn jumps. Santana notices that the shower has stopped, and smiles. "Have you seen Puckerman?"

Attempting to cover himself failingly with his hands, Finn answers after a moment, "No, but I'm pretty sure he's been hanging out with Lauren a lot lately." _And maybe even Rachel _goes unsaid.

Santana stands away from the lockers, looking at him questioningly. "What are you doing Frankenteen?"

Finn's cheek goes slightly pink, "Well, you're in the boy's locker room and…you know." _I'm kinda naked underneath this towel._

She scoffs with a roll of her eyes. "I've seen it all. And didn't you walk down the hallway naked?"

"I was still wearing boxers," He mutters, heading over to his locker. He still feels embarrassed about that and it reminds him of the Pillsbury Dough boy comments she made that made him a little more than self-conscious. Maybe more than anyone else since she was the first girl to see him naked.

Santana approaches slowly by his side, eyes raking over his tall frame.

"Finn, you're totally hot." She bats her long eyelashes, "And you've been working out- you have a six pack, now." She smirks appreciatively, letting her eyes rest on his still wet abdominals. Her index finger reaches out and makes a trail down from the apex of his pectorals to the valley of his abs.

"Weren't you, um, looking for Puck?" Finn asks in a deeper baritone than usual, gulping past the dry lump in his throat. Santana's finger and gaze is still low on his form, eyes darkened alluringly.

"Not really," She hums, looking up into his eyes now.

"Then why are you in the locker room?"

She steps even closer, finger now riding low on the edge of his towel. "Because the way to get to _you _is through _Puck_."

He grabs her finger roughly, halting its movement, and they're so close to each other that she has to look up at him through her dark and long lashes.

It doesn't take her long to see that she's strung a cord within the star quarterback, and his grip trails to her wrist, clenching and unclenching the appendage in his grasp.

"You said that we'd stop playing games with each other, Santana." Finn says,

and the Latina's brow furrows. "I didn't say anything like that; you did." She corrects easily without qualm. Her free hand lands on his right pectoral, tracing shapes on the dampened and flushed skin. "You can't break a promise to someone if you never make it, can you? And why are you so intent on avoiding me anyways? It's not like you're going out with the hobbit, anyways." She remarks, slightly put off when he removes her hand from his person and takes a step back.

"I still care about her," Finn disputes. Santana blinks at him in response.

"Is that why she hangs out with Puck every chance she gets? Because she cares about you too?" The cheerleader scathingly argues, snatching her wrist from his grip. "Why are you wasting your time pining over her when you could be with someone so much better?"

"You mean like you?" His eyes narrow, already anticipating her response.

"Hell yeah," Santana agrees.

His mouth opens, then closes. And finally: "Have you ever loved someone before, Santana?"

Her hand falls away from his skin as if she's been burned by it, and she takes a step back.

"Has someone ever loved _you _before?" Finn inquires seriously, a bit gentler than before. He continues, grabbing his clothes from his locker, "I can't easily forgive Rachel because I actually loved her. I cared about her and when she did what she did with Puck," He pauses, a sigh on his lips. "It was her disregard for that, for _us_, that ended us. And even if she's not my girlfriend, she's tried to make me forgive her, but…I just can't, and I don't think I'll ever really forgive her."

He closes his locker and Santana steps away to the end of the adjacent bench, sitting on the edge crossed legged away from him. He looks at her in confusion and she turns her head momentarily, "You should get dressed, you're shivering."

She turns her head back to the front and he looks down at his clothes, realizing she's letting him get dressed without her Vulcan gaze. Finn notices the goosebumps on his arm, and the cold in the locker room returns to his body everywhere but his chest, where Santana's smoldering touch still lingered.

He quickly throws his shirt on and then slips his towel off with a blush on his cheeks, keeping his gaze on Santana's ponytail.

As Finn slips on his boxers, Santana laments off-handedly, "You know, I've made out and hooked up enough with Puck to last me a lifetime. I wouldn't cheat on you with him."

"And what about some other guy who's willing to hook up with you?" Finn asks rhetorically. "I've been in a relationship with two girls, and both chose another guy other me, the same guy you have sex with. I shouldn't have to be second best."

"You aren't, Finn. Don't you see that those girls just use Puck? That those same girls ultimately choose you? That I…" She doesn't finish that sentence. Just lets it hang and filter through the increasingly stifling air. She crosses her arms and sits, wondering when she'll stop caring about him and his thoughts.

Finn zips up his fly, wondering if she was going to say what he thought she was going to say, and lets his duffle bag hang off his shoulder. He walks over towards her, and she looks up at him when he touches her shoulder.

"Do you wanna get a burger, or something?"

"What?"

"I know your coach is kinda crazy –very crazy- and you never really eat at school, but I know you like burgers, so…"

"Yeah," She nods.

_He remembers._

* * *

Thanks for the reviews on the first part, ladies! I'll make sure to keep 'em coming if you do the same; also, the springing up of these great Fantana fics has been great, really. I'm loving them to pieces. If you have a particular moment between Finn and San that you want me to cover (canon for now) please let me know!

DAC


End file.
